


Sachiko Ever After

by thirdromanceoftheDemon (orphan_account)



Category: Corpse Party (Video Game), Homestuck
Genre: Blood and Guts, Death, Gore, Murder, Nooses, corpse party au, dark themes, heavenly host elementary, just watch out ok, rope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 11:38:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2023683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/thirdromanceoftheDemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dave! STOP IT!"</p><p>John started to choke.</p><p>"Da...ve...plea...se..."</p><p> </p><p>  <em> He kept screaming, hoping it was just a mirage. </em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Sachiko Ever After

**Author's Note:**

> um,,, hi,, please bare with me with the bonus part of the story bc i dont really remember that part of CP ,, , > A

As soon as John exited the infirmary, Dave felt his stomach churn in a sickening way. But the sick feeling ended as soon as it had begun. It was awfully quiet, and the atmosphere around him was unsettling. There was nothing comforting about anything right now in the least. He sat up on the old but oddly clean cot. He sat there for a few minutes, too afraid to get up. He finally stood up, dreadful. He should't linger in this place, and he knew it was a bad idea for John to leave. He didn't have the heart to speak up. He slowly came out from behind the dividers that separated the cots from the rest of the eerie, old room. "John?" His voice echoed throughout the nearly empty room. The blue-tinted cracked wood creaked beneath him with every step he took. He walked toward the center of the room, looking around nervously. "John?" He called out once more, his voice faltering. "Where are you...?" Striders shouldn't get nervous. He's already broken some of the Strider rules. Unacceptable. He shifted his weight onto his sprained ankle, the floorboards creaking obnoxiously loud under him. Pain shot through his ankle and he let out a startled gasp. "John!" He went towards the door and gripped the handle. Splitting up was a dumb as fuck idea. He turned the nob.  
Nothing. He tried again. Locked.  
"What." This was literally impossible. John left the room two minutes ago- the door was even open! And now it's locked. He tried pulling the doorknob as hard as he can. The door showed no signs of having a lock, but it wouldn't open. It's as if the door was fixed to the wall like a sick decoration. "No. What the fuck." He tried once more and sighed, putting his head in his hands. He shouldn't panic. He walked around the room to look for a key. A key. Yes, that was what he needed. He took careful steps, avoiding the holes in the ground that seemed bottomless. He took a few more steps before hearing something by his feet. He must've knocked it out of the way with his foot, or something. It was a box of matches. Right next to a metal stool. Heck yeah. He picked them up and shoved them in his pocket. That would probably be useful at a later time. He was about to walk over to the corner of the room to light a candle but suddenly, so suddenly, he felt his world tip slightly and he fell to the ground, right in front of one of the gaps in the ground. He must've lost balance or something. Maybe it was lack of hydration. He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince with those words. His thoughts were interrupted as something dark formed in front of him. A shadow. Black particles from the air swirled in all directions before coming together and forming some sort of substance that was advancing on him. Holy shit. The hairs on the back of his neck were raising and every part of him told himself he needed to get away. He got up and felt the shadow right behind him. He ran in the direction opposite of the door since the shadow was over there. The shadow seemed to float over to him, which terrified him further and made him move faster. The ground right in front of him suddenly caved in. All around him. He quickly ran in the other direction, the floor breaking behind him. He ran toward the door after escaping the shadow.  
It was covered in black strands of long hair. Covered. Well, that certainly wasn't there before. The door was now stuck shut, since the hair kept it together. "That's some paranormal shit." He muttered shakily, trying to keep some of his sanity. He took out the matches, an idea forming in his head. He took one and tried to burn up the hair. But it wouldn't ignite. He yelled a stream of profanities and tried again. No luck. The odds weren't in his favor. He turned around. The shadow seemed to grow bigger and bigger. He ran away, over to the other side of the room, peeking inside the cabinets through the glass in search of a weapon or at least something to get rid of the hair around the door. His eyes glanced over the bottles of expired medicine, scanning each one until his eyes fell upon oil. He yanked open the cabinet and grabbed the small bottle of oil. He turned around quickly but the shadow knocked him down to the ground. His sprained ankle bent in the wrong way and snapped further. He screamed and clawed at the wood, nearing the door. When he got close enough, he hastily twisted open the cap and splashed the contents of the bottle all over the door, thoroughly soaking the hair with oil. He then threw the bottle towards the shadow. It went right through him, but it was enough distraction for him to pull out the box of matches. He quickly lit one and set the hair on fire. The hair burned easily and he didn't show the slightest sign of hesitance as he threw open the door and slammed it behind him. 

 

He stood there for a few moments, collecting his breath. He stumbled over to one of the corners of the hallway and was violently sick for a minute. He coughed and covered his mouth, his eyes wide. 

"Dave?!" John's panicked voice startled him but he didn't move. He heard footsteps and felt an arm wrap around his back. "Dave? Are you okay?!" Dave waited a few moments before answering back. "Y...yeah. 'S nothin'. I got attacked." He didn't know how else to put it. "Attacked?!" John's panicked voice rang out around the room. "By who?" John seemed truly scared, the arm around him tightening. He buried his head in the crook of Dave's neck. "As long as you're okay..." He breathed. "L-let's just consider the infirmary of limits for now." Dave forced out. "Yeah..." John nodded in agreement and got up. "Can you stand?" He held out his hand for Dave. Dave took it and slowly stood up. "I need...help...my ankle." Dave held onto John's shoulder and they both looked down at Dave's torn-up ankle. "I'll help you. Lean on me." John put an arm around Dave's waist. "Come on...we'll get out of here. Let's keep looking for exits." He smiled, confident. "Hey, don't be so glum! I have a hairdresser's appointment first thing in the morning and I intend to keep it!" He laughed a bit. Dave glanced up to check out John's hair. It was messy, but cute. "And how about we fix up your bike tomorrow? We can go bike riding!" He looked at Dave, lifting Dave's chin with his finger. In a softer voice, he said, "Come on...we'll be home in no time. I bet this'll all be a thing of the past we can make jokes about-" "John..." Dave interrupts. "How do you know we'll make it home? How are you so sure? I...I doubt we'll make it out of here." John's smile faltered a bit. "Dave...don't be so negative."  
"Well John, maybe there isn't a way out! Ever thought about that?!" Dave suddenly said in a darker tone. He flinched slightly. What was he saying? He should apologize to John. "You know...your mom never came back." Oh boy, he was treading on a sensitive topic now. "D-Dave, that's a different story. Come on. If we just look a bit more-" "John, there's no way out of here. Stop convincing yourself there will be, because normal people aren't so damn chipper. There are dead bodies, John! Real ones!" He raised his voice toward the end. John flinched, hurt flashed across his eyes. "What do you mean by n-normal?" John's voice was shaking. "Y'know...people who...have both parents." Dave forced out. Quickly, he said, "You're just unusually...chipper about this. It's not normal. We're trapped in an elementary school that doesn't exist, and you're acting like it's a damn piece of cake." Dave pulled away from John. "I'm sorry. Y-you know what? I think we should split up. We can find an exit quicker." He regretted the words as soon as they escaped his lips- but he couldn't find it in his heart to apologize. It felt like something was invading his mind. He wouldn't normally say this.  
"...Are you fucking crazy?" John yelled, tears filling in the corners of his eyes. "Who the hell says that!" He wiped his eyes. Dave looked up at him. "Hey- John..." Dave put a hand on his cheek. "We'll meet back here, okay? Does that sound good?"  
A long moment of silence passed before John finally agreed to split up. "Okay...fine. We'll split up. I go upstairs and you go downstairs." He gave a sad smile. And with that, he turned around and walked away. Dave stood there for a moment before cussing himself out in his head. He didn't know what came over him when he said those things to John. Dave wanted to chase after John but he felt as if he couldn't move.  
\--  
As soon as John reached the third floor, he immediately broke into sobs. "Dave...Daaaaave..." He wailed. He hasn't ever fought like that with Dave. Ever. Tears dropped onto his shirt and he wiped his face, only to have it covered in tears once again. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be safe, to he together with Dave. Not here. Not here in this cursed hell hole. He sniffed and called out Dave's name once again, feeling utterly heartbroken and lost. He fell to his knees on the floor and sobbed into his hands. His shoulders shook with every breath he took. "Nooo!" He cried out and yelled more. He did this for a while before calming down and eventually he stood up, dried tears on his face. He sniffed and looked around. There was a sign on the wall that read "Girls bathroom here, and boys bathroom at the end of the hall." Suddenly he felt a wave of need to enter the bathroom. Exploration purposes? He didn't know why he needed to go in there, but he went anyway despite the way every inch of his body was telling him to turn around.  
\--

All Dave did was wander around the haunted halls, calling out John's name. He looked in every classroom, every hallway, and everywhere else he could think of. He remembered that John should be at the 3rd floor, so he began to head there. He would apologize right away and pull John into an embrace. He had his apology all planned out in his head. He would take John's hand and tell him he would love to ride bikes with him. He made his way up to the 3rd floor, anxiety filling his body and his heart aching. He wasn't sure how John put up with him. He nearly jogged up the stairs in a panic when he saw them. When he arrived at the 3rd floor, he was surprised to see it was nothing but restrooms. Just a girl's one and a boy's one. John was nowhere in sight. He waited there for a few moments, expecting John to come out from behind something and yell "Gotcha!". He didn't think it would happen, though. After a minute, he came to the conclusion that John was heading back downstairs already. He turned around and headed toward the stairs- but a loud thump stopped him in his tracks. He whipped his head around. "John? Are you there?" He stared at where the source of the sound came from- the girl's bathroom. Fuck it, he thought. Thump. He slowly entered the girl's bathroom. Thump. He looked around. The second-to-last stall swung and closed, making a 'thump'. Upon closer inspection, he heard something else, too. Loud creaking. Very loud creaking. He slowly approached the door, his heart beating. He opened the door.  
John was hanging from a noose. His arms lay almost lifeless by his sides.  
Dave screamed and choked on his own spit, falling to the floor. He kept screaming, hoping it was just a mirage. Unfortunately, it was the truth. The source of the creaking was the rope lightly swinging him back and forth.  
"D...Da..." He barely heard it. Strangled breaths. "Da...ve..." He quickly scrambled over to John. "You're alive!!" He nearly yelled. He grabbed onto the rope around John's neck. He tried to move it, but it only strangled John further. "S-sorry!" He said quickly. There was nothing under John to help him, and Dave has no idea how John managed to do...this. "Um...uh...I-I dunno what to do! Fuck!" He quickly searched the bathroom for a stool or something. "Oh god oh god oh god..." He was shaking violently. He ran out of the bathroom and scanned his surroundings. A bucket! He quickly fell to his knees in front of the bucket. Then his blood ran cold. The contents of the bucket were red guts and intestines, floating in a pool of blood. Real ones. He almost got sick right then and there, but he remembered that John was dying. He didn't have time to linger. He quickly tipped the bucket over and all the contents spilled out with sickening sloshing sounds. Blood covered the floor. Blood covers his hands. He didn't care. He grabbed the bucket and back to John as fast as his legs would take him. He swung the stall open. "John!"  
There wasn't anymore breathing. John showed no signs of acknowledgement that Dave was there. When Dave got closer to John, he saw the tear stains on his face, and that John's mouth hung open slightly. It was too late. The tin bucket fell out of his hands and made a loud clashing sound. He stared up at John's eyes, and John's lifeless eyes stared back at him. "John..." He fell to the floor in front of John. "You...you said...you said that we'd...ride our bikes...you said th-that we'd get out of here...!" His voice slowly rose into hysteria. "Don't leave me alone John! I never got to tell you I loved you!" His voice shook and he started to cry loudly. "You c...can't leave me! We leave together!!" Dave screamed, his head in his hands. He cried out loud and slowly lowered his head to the ground in grief. "Nooooo..." He moaned. "I'm so sorry..." He whispered, barely audible. Memories of John were replaying in his mind. The only response he got was the creaking of the rope. 

[Fin.]

 

Bonus:  
 _Dave hurried while he was trying to explore the maze basement. He promised Roxy he'd be back soon. He rounded the corner, but it was a dead end. A dead end with a door leading into a room. When he entered the room, the only thing he found was a TV and a remote. He turned the TV on and it illuminated the dark room. "Hmm..." The TV was just static. No channels or anything. "Ah." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the tape. "This should do...let's see..." He slid the tape inside the player and hit play. As it loaded, he recalled where he found the tape. It was in the Janitor's closet. He figured he's take the tape to watch later. Now was later. The screen suddenly flickered to life. It was a surveillance video. A video of the girl's bathroom. Instantly, Dave felt sick, recalling the events that happened there. He kept watching anyway. He couldn't find a reason to peel his eyes away from the screen anyway. In the corner of the screen in green lettering showed a digital clock. It must've been the time of recording. Suddenly, a figure walked into the room. It was John. He was crying quietly._  
 _Immediately he thought this was the...the day. The time. The death._  
 _Dave heard John's quiet sobs. John stopped, and stood there for a moment gasping and rubbing his eyes. Suddenly, Dave hears the door slam open. John turns around._  
 _The person that walked in was Dave._  
 _Dave watched the recording in horror. The Dave in the recording advanced to John. "Dave? I'm so sor-" John was interrupted as the Dave in the recording gripped him by the shirt and started dragging him to one of the stalls. "A-Ack- Dave- Ican't- breathe-"_  
 _Dave felt like he was going to throw up all his insides. He felt sick. He continued to watch the recording in pure horror._  
 _The Dave in the recording pulled out a rope and tied a noose._  
 _Oh my god no.  
_ _Still holding John's wrist, Dave climbed ontop of the toilet and tied the other end of the rope on a horizontal pole attatched to the ceiling. It was now a hanging empty noose. John started to struggle and almost yanked his hand out of the recording Dave's grasp. "Dave! STOP IT!" John shut his eyes as Dave got down and guided the noose around John's neck. He quickly pulled on the rope, pulling John into the air. John started to choke. Dave didn't care. He secured the rope in place and then watched John claw at the rope tied around his neck. "Da...ve...plea...se..." He kicked his feet around but eventually stopped. He was still breathing, just not moving. The darkened Dave faded out of the video, and the door of the bathroom stall started to swing close. Thump. It swung open, then close. Open, close._

_Thump.  
_

**Author's Note:**

> im not sorry


End file.
